


The Penitent

by whiskyandoldspice (Itsirtou)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubious Consent, Godstiel: Cas as God, M/M, Season 6/7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:23:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itsirtou/pseuds/whiskyandoldspice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you. I detest all my sins because of your just punishments, but most of all because they offend you, my God, who are all good and deserving of all my love."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Penitent

Sam is down on his knees in abasement before Castiel, head bent in mute praise and abject contrition. Raphael’s blood seeps through his pants where they touch the floor, the blood of Castiel’s enemy, and Castiel thinks that this is what the old gods must have felt, Kali and Odin and the rest, when their priests sliced the throats of mewling helpless children on the altars, when warriors howled their names at the sky with the viscera and the ruins of their opponents smeared on mouths and hands and flesh. Castiel feels a sudden urge to push Sam down into it, strong sleek body naked in the gore, lick Raphael’s lifeblood off of his skin and taste the conquest.

For the moment, though, he simply rests his hand lightly on the top of Sam’s bowed head.

“Cas,” and _oh_ , that’s his other lovely son, his Dean. Spark of pleasure that Dean is his now, all his. The whole of the Earth belongs to Castiel, every thing, every animal, every creation—but especially these two things, these wondrous things, his beautiful boys.

He sees no reason to deny himself the worship of his most beloved creatures.

“Cas,” Dean says again, and there’s anger in his voice, and helplessness, and pleading; it never ceases to fill Castiel with wonder, how many emotions Dean can feel all at once. He’s talking to Castiel but his eyes are trained on his brother and Castiel feels fond exasperation that now, even now, even faced with the wrathful love of his God, there’s no room in Dean’s heart for anything but fear for his brother. Dean’s straining to move, his face white, but he’s frozen in place by nothing more than Castiel’s will. “Cas, you can’t do this.”

And because Dean needs to be shown exactly Castiel can do, he winds his fingers through Sam’s soft hair, brings his head up until Castiel looking down into Sam’s eyes.

He sees it in Sam’s resigned, weary face: Sam understands that this is not his punishment, but Dean’s. Dean must understand the order of the world; he must understand to whom he belongs. And Castiel will not stop until Dean is alongside his brother on his knees in wretched supplication.

Dean should die in a hundred ways, a thousand ways, flesh flayed from his body in long bloody strips, until Castiel can taste the hot sweetness of his blood; he should die, begging and screaming, for the way that he’s betrayed Castiel, pay with his pain and his blood the price that comes along with disloyalty.

But Castiel is a merciful God, so he’ll allow Sam to pray for his brother.

This is how Sam prays: touches Castiel with reverent fingers, taking Castiel slowly into his mouth. Castiel sighs, just once, even though he doesn’t need to make the sound; he does it so that his priest knows how much Castiel is pleased. 

After that, Castiel remains silent because he wants to hear the wet noise of Sam’s mouth as it works around his flesh, prettier than any hymn.

He sees the exact moment that Dean atones: he crumples to the ground as though his legs can no longer hold him, folds to his hands and knees, head hanging down, shuddering violently over and over as though buffered on all sides by a powerful wind. Castiel runs his fingers through Sam’s hair, silent acceptance of Sam’s offering, and walks over to Dean. He leans down and places two fingers under Dean’s chin and draws him up, to his feet. Dean goes slowly. Fat tears leak steadily out of the corners of his eyes, run shining down his pale cheeks, and Castiel kisses the salty wet penance off of his little disciple’s face.

“You will love me,” Castiel says, and it is not a question. Dean shivers, closing his eyes as though the sight of his God is too much for him to bear.

“Yes,” Dean answers, and no sound in Heaven or on Earth has ever been so sweet. Sam comes to stand behind him, curling his hand over Dean’s shoulder, and they’re so beautiful, his faithful, his devout.

**Author's Note:**

> But thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us, miserable offenders.  
> Spare thou them, O God, which confess their faults.  
> Restore thou them that are penitent.


End file.
